A/N: Well, sorry for the incredibly slow updates, kiddos. Had someone remind me how fickle I'd been in doing it, and tried to make amends. Sorry it's not longer, but I hope it's well received. Though I've been unnaturally captivated by the Bad Romance (I won't be blamed! There's something evil and hypnotic in there! It's making me buy McDonald's and Nike! It's telling me I want to join the Army!), I figured Toad would have less tolerance than I and would share my original reaction of confused horror. (if it helps, imagine her as the female Marilyn Manson, 'cuz she totally is, BUT I digress!) I'll try to get another one out before too long, but no promises. You know how I roll.

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Chapter 5: Call it a Bad Romance

The incessantly pounding notes of Lady GaGa's Bad Romance shook the glass of Toad's window well past two a.m. The flicker of firelight cast the strange dancing shadows across his wall as he lay in bed, glaring at the ceiling. Cruel and Unusual, came to mind. His finger twitched involuntarily with the desire to strangle the responsible party. He resolved himself to hunting down that leather glad spangly psycho, when he got out of here, and chopping her up into little bits, after forcing her to listen to her own music on repeat for a minimum of seventy two hours. The decision brought a smirk to his lips and he resigned himself to the the fact he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, and sat up.

The last month and change had been fairly uneventful and Toad was getting antsy. His health seemed to be improving, Dr. Grey seemed fairly surprised by it and was running no end of tests to determine why. Thus far she'd concluded that it had something to do with the natural oils his skin secreted to help him adhere when climbing. The rapid improvement of his health was a true testament to how damaging the wounds he'd taken as a child truly were for the scars to last so prominently.

Despite Storm's promise to be watching him, he'd seen neither hide nor hair of the weather bitch since her warning. Most of the senior members of the X-Staff, in fact, had kept their distance. Though he'd let the near-altercation with Rogue and the junior-jerks roll off his shoulders, Toad hadn't been keen on a repeat, and had been spending most of his time in his room. He wasn't sure at what point he'd started thinking of it as 'his', but it certainly was by now. Dirty clothes were strewn all over the floor, the smell of smoke clung to the air, his sheets were graying and stiff in certain places as he wasn't one to over-wash. The pristine walls were currently marred with cigarette burns and absent scribbles near the window where he was prone to sit and look out at the grounds. His collection of student flasks had grown to three, and he currently had them stuffed under his mattress. Along with the scanty devil, he'd found one sporting skull and crossbones and another that said 'Boom' and was metallic pink. He took a moderate amount of amusement in knowing they couldn't complain to anyone about the theft and though the alcohol contained within was almost always wretched and too sweet, it was something. The real joy came in depriving the students.

Fuck it, he decided, sliding out of bed and reaching for the last of his clean clothes, still folded neatly in a half opened drawer where someone had taken care to leave them. He glanced out the window as he did up his fly and grinned as he saw one of the students fall to the grass around the bonfire. He supposed the adults must have taken in a show or something and left an irresponsible party in charge, and that the students were taking advantage of it. If he'd had to guess he would have assumed Wolverine was the one not paying the party any mind, though Toad wondered how he could stand the music. Especially with that enhanced hearing. Torture. He shuddered for the man and then checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Ain't gettin' any prettier."

He slipped out into the dark, keeping his head down and trying to blend into the crowd of drunken hooligans on his way to the card table they'd set up to hold the booze. Though the bonfire offered some light, clouds moved overhead, keeping the moon's rays from reaching the partiers and Toad's identity well concealed. The drunken state of the majority of the students helped too.

The print-ad kid had hold of a nondescript brunette's hands and was spinning with her, laughing, while Rogue hung back with a red plastic cup in hand, smiling at their antics. The greasy haired kid who'd backed him up at the tree was trying to dry hump a ginger girl, in the guise of dancing, who was doing her best to swat him away.

There were plenty of other young idiots in various stages of intoxication, dancing with abandon. Some were considerably better dancers than others. Toad choked down his first drink of whatever it was came easily to hand (tasted like jaiger...damned kids), to keep from laughing aloud at a girl with lavender hair attempting to quite poorly, drop it like it was hot.

He filled up the red plastic cup with another generous helping of the next bottle that came to hand, turned as he brought it to his lips and froze.

She could do porn, was the first thought he had, good porn. Hell, she could make 'Jennifer's' Body look like Sloth from the fucking Goonies. His next thought was that he had been pirating way too many shitty movies in his downtime, but that was quickly dismissed as he watched her move. All the murderous intentions toward GaGa evaporated as she rocked her hips in time to the music.

They were both hot, he realized, when he could draw his gaze away from her bosom and the way her thighs tightened when she wound down. The girl that first drew his attention was his height with a shock of blonde hair, blue eyes drowning beneath dark lashes and full pouting lips. The studs in her nose and brows caught in the firelight and glittered, drawing him in. Curvy proportions that were somehow...impossibly, on a gymnast's body. Goddamned perfect ass. And she was grinding provocatively against a girl nearly as lovely as she was. Shorter with predominantly Asian features, equally as fit though slimmer, more delicate. Contrasting sharply with the punk garb that clung and hung in effortless perfection. Big silver hoops swung against an angled jawline.

He brought the cup up to his mouth and swallowed what proved to be a mouthful of cheap vodka (damned kids, honestly!). The duo was obviously enjoying all the attention their spectacle was drawing, as they grew more daring, hands running over too-much exposed skin. Toad shook his head and grinned. The night was really looking up.

The Blonde was the sexier of the two and it was by intention. The dark-haired girl was bouncier, more adept at a hip-hop, break dancing style. The Blonde raked black painted nails up her own thighs, over her toned belly, cupping his own breasts, eyes shut and face turned toward the sky. He heard a girl to his left mutter, "skank," to her friend, and he shook his head. Maybe he was just a sucker for a gorgeous skank. What man, wasn't? he mused.

The booze went to his head and he embraced that invincible feeling that had gotten him in trouble more than once. Striding forward, while her back was still to him, he put both hands low on her hips and pressed his chest to her back, moving with her, sucking in a sharp breath at the feel of those curves against his own firm musculature. He didn't imagine he could get away with it for long, but he was hoping inebriation and reckless abandon were on his side. He felt the girl tremble slightly at the unexpected contact, but she didn't stop moving, imaging it was someone she knew, he was sure.

Feeling bold, he slid his hand to splay low on her belly, forcing her movements to follow his, his other hand tracing the contours of her body to her wrist, pulling her arm up and back to his own shoulder. She was all-too happy to comply. Her eyes stayed obediently closed, keeping up the illusion. He played her like a doll, complete control, and she let him. She smelled like sugar, one of those overpowering body creams the young women favored. He pressed his cheek against her ear and turned in so that his nose and lips brushed that soft skin, breathing her in deep. He could feel her heart thundering in her chest as her body became slowly aware that this was not a familiar touch.

It was dark, but not so dark as to keep his identity a secret now. Her friends had stopped dancing and were staring with open-mouthed horror at the torrid display before them. The dark-haired Asian girl was sputtering breathlessly, hands shaking as she fought to find the words.

"T...T...Tabby..."

The urgency in her tone must have pulled the Blonde out of stupor, because she stiffened and her eyes flew open, though she couldn't turn to see him, pressed close as he was. He tightened his grin and murmured against her perfect skin.

"You are so bloody beautiful, Tabby."

Then he let her go, and she stumbled forward and spun to see him smirked at her. The other students had started gathering their supplies, or just flat out scurried back for their dorm rooms as her dark-haired friend clutched at her arm, trying to pull her away. Tabby stared at him, plump lips parted as she panted for air, pupils wide as she drank in the sight of him without shuddering. Without fear. Surprise. Not fear. Interesting.

Then the girls turned and ran back for the school, leaving him suddenly alone out on the lawn and watching her as she glanced back once and met his gaze unflinchingly, before she was tugged through the doorway into bright normalcy. Interesting.